


gingiva

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bad end, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Guilt, I Mean Bad End Is Debatable, Other, Self Loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: The smile spills off of their face.
Relationships: Helen & Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims & The Spiral, Jonathan Sims/The Spiral
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	gingiva

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory every pronoun used for distortion disclaimer okay cool 
> 
> also if you want to read it as horny by all means you think i'm going to stop you?

“Welcome back, Jon.”  
  
“You could at least pretend to be surprised.” Helen laughs, hand dragging over his shoulder when she's behind him in an instant, leaning around his chair and shredding his novelty jacket. The laugh is inviting, for the first time in- in ever.  
  
“If you want theatrics you should go find the doll. Oh wait.” Helen moves to his other side, clearly intent on deafening him. “You killed it.”  
  
“Her.” He hisses and moves to shove her- it away. His hand hits a bony shoulder, under a thin and dirty cardigan, and his fingers slip maybe, useless as they are in comparison. All he achieves is pushing his rolling chair into her other arm. “Nikola.”  
  
“You want me to learn more names? And after not even being grateful to me for learning yours.”  
  
“You've known me for two years.”  
  
“Yes.” It's hissed out, so much more Michael than Helen. So much more Distortion than either of them. Jonah sits in his office upstairs, smirking to himself, busy petting his new eyes. Peter Lukas' light gray sit in such sharp contrast to Elias' brown but they're both there, both apathetic. Deeply marked by the Spiral- Fuck him. “Yes I most certainly have.”  
  
The thing is- the real heart of the matter is- that Helen wasn't scary. She was always more of a reminder of his own fuck up, his own monumental failure. Michael wasn't scary anymore, dead or decorporialized and just another part in Distortion's unending puzzle. What was scary, still, even now, were the fingers slowly digging their way into his shoulder.  
  
He had practically pushed himself onto them.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“What do I want?” She- it- they- he- everything- nothing- multitudes- move to sit on the desk in front of him, thousand year old pencil skirt riding up. “Now that is a question isn't it?”  
  
“Helen-”  
  
“Oh, now I'm Helen. What do we think, Jon? It? Her? Him, maybe?” They're smiling, wide and bright, like a cat toying with its food that it knows couldn't outrun it even if it tried. “So when I want to be Helen, I'm a monster, and when I want to be awful, I'm neutered into your sad little human friend again?”  
  
“She wasn't my friend.”  
  
“But she liked you, Jon.” He hears fabric rip- the fingers in his shoulder are wide enough.  
  
It's an old wound, it's easy to dig into.  
  
He really thought he'd manage to overcome it by now.  
  
“Leave.”  
  
“Oh?” Again, and it's even more annoying now. “How is your little lonely friend, Jon? Why don't you call him for help?”  
  
Martin- He shoves again, harder, but it's like trying to juggle tissue. He can think of where he wants his hand to go, think of the action, but in the end, even with his hand inches from a body, he can't get it to connect. Martin had stayed in Scotland- No- Jon winces as the information pours into him and Helen is sent of on another line of giggles. Martin's left to America.  
  
“Leave me alone.”  
  
“Not my field of expertise actually. Why don't you go calling to the good Captain.” It's spit with enough vitriol that, well it's good to know that some wounds don't close on them either. “Oh wait.” Her other hand settles on her chin, one finger up to her temple. “You killed him too.”  
  
“Go fuck yourself.”  
  
“I'm always the one doing you favors, right? Why don't you do it yourself for once.”  
  
There's a sharp pain in his shoulder that shoots down into his arm, into his fingers. It nicked a muscle, must have.  
  
“Stop-” He doesn't beg, that's not what it's meant to sound like.  
  
“You call me a monster for not denying my nature. You're just as adept a monster yourself.” But she does let him go then, hands dripping onto the floor and smearing onto her skirt. “You've killed so many things, Jon. So many people.”  
  
“They deserved it.”  
  
The grin curls, full little spirals on their cheeks like something out of disgusting cartoon. The teeth curl with it.  
  
“And you don't?”  
  
He does.  
  
Of course he does.  
  
He's bleeding down the front of himself, wet and warm.  
  
It's staining through the jacket.  
  
He's going to die.  
  
Good.  
  
“Leave.” He tries again, digging for that hunger, and theres a hand over his mouth.  
  
It sighs and the noise echos for miles.  
  
“Don't you miss when we were friends, Jon?” Something about his voice being muffled reminds him of a cold basement. “I would think you'd cling on to me with all your hope. All your persistence. You don't have anyone left, after all. Just you and me. Just us. Just we.”  
  
His chest hurts.  
  
It's not just the bleeding.  
  
“Friends-” It's still muffled. “We were never-”  
  
“You could always run away, Jon. Slip away when that decrepit old degenerate is distracted.”  
  
He's going to bleed out in his office. Deeply marked by the Spiral. Yeah, the bones in his shoulder sure are. He shakes his head out of her grasp and that twisting smile is back again.  
  
“And go where?” It's not a sneer, persay.  
  
“Here.” Her hand fans out over its chest. And the it coils, undulates, and fans over their face. “Premier vacation destination. Visited by so many greats.”  
  
Why couldn't he have left well enough alone.  
  
He was fine, he was free, he was in Scotland, looking at cows.  
  
But he was hungry.  
  
“Are you?” He asks and clears his throat and asks again. “Are you hungry?”  
  
The smile spills off of their face.  
  
“No.”  
  
He's going to bleed out in his office.  
  
“Can't even remember the last time I thought about eating.”  
  
Jonah isn't even going to notice.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Why would he when Jon's already done his entire job for him.  
  
“Are you?”  
  
“No.” He says, and stands so quickly he feels light headed. “No. Not at all.”  
  
Finding the door inside of it isn't hard at all.

**Author's Note:**

> you: hey alive how many time are you going to write about jon turning into the distortion  
me: at least once more
> 
> comments are always very appreciated
> 
> find me on[ tumblr ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/licotain)


End file.
